<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Looking Through a Window Tinted with Longing by FanGirlofManyThings</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090010">Looking Through a Window Tinted with Longing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlofManyThings/pseuds/FanGirlofManyThings'>FanGirlofManyThings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>4 + 1, Could be Read as Eskel/Geralt if You Wanted, Gen, Gentleness, Listen Lambert Deserves to be Loved, Longing for gentleness, Winter At Kaer Morhen, soft moments</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 03:02:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlofManyThings/pseuds/FanGirlofManyThings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Lambert accidentally sees Eskel and Geralt with their guards down and one time they got him to lower his.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Looking Through a Window Tinted with Longing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The working title for this work was "Soft Wolf Bois" and honestly it's fitting.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lambert was fully aware that his brothers were softer than they let on. That their big, mean monster hunter act was just that - an act. They weren’t angry at their core like Lambert was. Both of them longed for things they would never have, like acceptance from the world at large and companionship. It was only due to the life they had been forced into that they had built hard shells to protect their true gentle nature. </p><p>Knowing that about his brothers true nature was one thing, but seeing their softness exposed was a completely different beast. </p><p>Seeing Geralt’s sword worn hand, cradling Eskel’s cheek while the other, equally rough, hand gently applied a salve to the scars maring Eskel’s face as they sat on Eskel’s bed was not something Lambert thought he could ever be prepared for. Not with Eskel’s face looking so unguarded, even with his eyes closed, his hand resting on Geralt’s knee. Not with the oh so careful way Geralt applied the salve, fingers tracing those scars in such an unhurried way. </p><p>“You haven’t been putting this on very often,” Geralt murmured, just loud enough for Lambert to hear from where he was standing frozen in the doorway.</p><p>Eskel sighed, shoulders falling just a little but didn’t say anything.</p><p>Geralt smoothed his thumb over the top of Eskel’s unmarred cheek, his other hand dipping into the little pot at his hip. “They would irritate you less if you did. Especially in the winter.”</p><p>His voice was calming and smooth, lacking all of his usual grumpiness. The voice he usually reserved for Roach or on occasion, Ciri. It was almost strange hearing Geralt address Eskel like that.</p><p>Almost. </p><p>Lavender, the salve smelled of lavender. Useless, as far as alchemical properties, which means one of them had added it simply to make the paste smell good. Something Witcher’s never bothered with when making their usual stocks of salves and potions.</p><p>Carefully, Geralt brought his fingers back to Eskel’s face. Working the salve into his skin with deliberate passes of his fingers over Eskel’s cheek. Massaging it into his ruined skin like Eskel was fragile, not a near century old being who made his living fighting monsters. Lambert saw more than heard Eskel sigh, his whole body relaxing under Geralt’s gentle hands. </p><p>“Feels better when you do it,” Eskel rumbled. </p><p>Geralt chuckled softly. “You could just ask, Esk, instead of waiting until they hurt so much you can barely talk.”</p><p>“I could,” Eskel mumbled, leaning into Geralt’s touch a little more.</p><p>Geralt pulled his hands away, shaking his head a little. </p><p>Lambert took that as his cue to leave before they came far enough out of their little bubble to notice him. As he turned away from the open door, he tried his best to shove down an ugly twisting in his stomach that felt a bit too much like longing.</p><p>***<br/>
Lambert had only wanted a book. Something to distract his mind enough for him to fall asleep. But instead he had found Geralt passed out on the library couch, with Eskel standing over him, smiling fondly. Smiling like one would look at a small child who’d fallen asleep at the dinner table, with a soft sort of loving expression but a hint of amusement playing among his features.</p><p>Geralt was sprawled out; one foot on the floor, book hanging from one hand, mouth open, hair spread out on the arm rest behind his head, but Eskel might have been looking at the most beautiful thing in the world for all the softness in his expression. Lambert didn’t think there was a single person on the continent who looked at him like that. Certainly not either of his brothers, not with how often he went out of his way to annoy them. No, Geralt and Eskel had grown up together, been forged in the trials together, there was a bond between them Lambert could never hope to have. Not with them. Not with anyone.</p><p>With a fond shake of his head, Eskel plucked the book from Geralt’s loose grasp, marking the page before placing it on the end table. His hand ghosted down Geralt's arm as he moved to kneel next to the leg hanging off the couch. Slowly, he unlaced Geralt’s boot before cupping his calf in his huge hand and easing the boot off Geralt’s foot. Eskel was the largest of all of them, but Geralt wasn’t exactly small either and yet with Eskel crouched next to his prone form, cradling his calf, Geralt looked so small. Small and delicate. Almost like all of Eskel’s careful, gentle touches were necessary to prevent Geralt from breaking.</p><p>Placing the boot next to the couch, Eskel eased Geralt’s leg up onto the couch. He set to work on the other boot, pulling it off and placing it on the floor next to its mate. In a testament to how safe he felt here at Kaer Morhen, Geralt only snuffled softly in this sleep, head lolling to the other side. Eskel chuckled softly as he pulled the blanket off the back of the couch. Almost delicately, Eskel covered Geralt with the blanket, making sure to tuck it in at his toes and shoulders. </p><p>Geralt mumbled wordlessly and a small smile passed across Eskel’s face as he brushed a few strands of silvery hair out of Geralt’s face. </p><p>“Sleep well, Wolf.” Lambert heard Eskel rumble softly as he tore himself away from the scene and slid between the shelves.</p><p>***<br/>
Eskel’d had another one of his nightmares. </p><p>The shout that had torn through the castle made sure they were all well aware of that. Lambert didn’t fault him, wasn’t even angry that he had been woken from a very peaceful sleep. All of them had nightmares, it was inevitable in their line of work, seeing what they saw day in, day out. Some nights, there was nothing they could do but wake in a screaming panic, cold sweat clinging to their bodies. It had happened to every single one of them, more nights that Lambert cared to keep count of. </p><p>So, no he didn’t begrudge Eskel his nightmare or even being awakened by him. What annoyed him was the way it had set him on edge, his instincts singing of an impending danger his mind knew didn’t exist. Eventually he had been forced to admit he wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon and hauled himself out of bed to grab a mug of ale from the kitchen.</p><p>At least that had been his plan before he’d passed by the great hall and noticed the fire was lit. Curious, he’d poked his head in the doorway and found himself caught in another of his brothers’ soft moments.</p><p>Geralt was sitting on the couch in front of the gently crackling fire, Eskel cradled in his lap. Two steaming mugs of tea, chamomile judging by the scent drifting past Lambert’s nose, sat on the low table in front of them. Eskel’s head rested against Geralt’s shoulders, his arms pulled tight against his own chest, a blanket pulled across his legs. The fire light danced across their forms, casting ugly shadows across Eskel’s scars. But Geralt didn’t seem to mind, not with the way one hand was carding through Eskel’s hair, the other wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close to his chest. </p><p>“It’s okay,” Geralt was whispering softly. “I’ve got you. There’s no danger here.”</p><p>Eskel’s only response was a pained whimper. A sound someone as big and tough as Eskel wasn’t expected to make. Because the world expected men who looked like Eskel to be purged of all soft emotions. As though growing to six foot five and two hundred fifty pounds had magically taken away Eskel’s ability to feel emotional pain.</p><p>And yet, here was the evidence to the contrary. Eskel was crying, by Witcher standards, in another Witcher’s lap after a nightmare. He sought comfort from what plagued him in the dark in the same way a small child would, curling up against the warmth of his brother’s chest. And Geralt hadn’t judged him for it, only held him and sought to drive away his fears.</p><p>Something that felt a little too much like jealousy tugged at Lambert’s chest as he turned away, Geralt’s soft voice following him down the hallway. When was the last time anyone had held him like that? Probably never, he had always been angry, hard to get close too.</p><p>He needed something stronger than ale. Maybe Vesimir had a stash of white gull he could raid.</p><p>***<br/>
Lambert felt like a peeping tom as he watched through the gap the ajar door left, gwent deck all but forgotten in his hand. Geralt was face down on his bed with Eskel astride his hips, hands gently massaging Geralt’s shoulders. Eskel’s olive skin standing in sharp contrast to Geralt’s milky white skin. His fingers sinking into Geralt’s muscles with ease, sliding over the scars that littered Geralt’s back. Kneading and pulling at the thick muscle that lined Geralt’s wide shoulders. The scent of eucalyptus tickled Lambert’s nose, the source of which was probably the thick salve Eskel was working into Geralt’s muscles.</p><p>“You should try stretching them out when you first wake up.” Eskel said softly. “It might help.”</p><p>Geralt made a noise halfway between a grunt and a moan. “It’s the damn storm. They always ache when there’s a storm blowing in.”</p><p>Geralt’s old griffin injury must be acting up again. They all had injuries like that. Things that no matter how well Witcher’s heal, just hadn’t set correctly or muscle that felt perpetually knotted. Lambert had one or two himself, though he usually chose to deal with them by grumbling to himself and downing some extra ale. Not whatever these two were doing. </p><p>“Besides,” Geralt mumbles, slightly muffled by the pillow under him. “You’re too good at this to give up.”</p><p>Eskel paused his ministrations to smack Geralt lightly across the back of his head, ruffling his hair slightly. “Hush. What do you do out on the Path? When I’m not there?”</p><p>Geralt gave a sort of shrug. “Suffer mostly. Dandelion always says he can tell a storm’s coming by how often I roll my shoulders.”</p><p>Eskel laughed, his deep, rumbling laugh bouncing off the stone walls. Geralt’s own smooth chuckle joined in, his shoulders shaking lighty under Eskel’s unmoving hands. They looked so free, so unworried. Eskel’s head tipped back, Geralt lazing beneath him. It wasn’t often Witcher’s got the chance to be so unworried. Lambert wasn’t sure he’d ever felt as at ease as they looked in that moment, bathed in the warm light of the fireplace. As their laughter died down, Eskel moved his hands a little further down Geralt’s back to start in on his lats. </p><p>Silently, Lambert backed away from the door, he could ask Geralt to play gwent later. This didn’t look like something he wanted to interrupt. Maybe he should grab his sword. Some shadow fighting in the courtyard might be enough to push this sudden feeling of sadness away.</p><p>***<br/>
“Move,” Lambert snapped at Eskel’s back.</p><p>Eskel was leaning against the door jam, practically filling the whole doorway, chatting happily with Geralt, who judging by the smell wafting around Eskel, was making porridge. Not that Lambert could actually see that, because his big, stupid brother was blocking the doorway.</p><p>This was not his morning. First the wyvern injury he’d been gifted this year on the Path had woken him up well before dawn and now the usually empty kitchen contained people. All he’d wanted was something to eat, tea with a splash of dwarven spirit and then to trudge back up to his room and stay there until Vesimir dragged him out for one chore or another.</p><p>But of course, Witchers didn’t get what they wanted in life. </p><p>“Ah, sorry about that Lamb,” Eskel said, stepping a little further into the kitchen.</p><p>Lambert scowled at the childhood nickname he’d never been able to shake as he stepped past Eskel. Limping past Geralt, who was indeed making porridge, Lambert scooped up the kettle and poured a few mugfuls of water into it. Bending over to hang the kettle over the fire hurt enough to make Lambert grimace, a hiss of pain slipping out unbidden.</p><p>With much less grace than he usually possessed, Lambert sat down at the small kitchen table. Fixing his gaze on the worn wood in an effort to pretend his brothers weren’t here.</p><p>Geralt slid a bowl of porridge in front of him. “You feeling alright, Lambert?”</p><p>Lambert gave him a noncommittal grunt but took the offered spoon. </p><p>“Even you’re not stupid enough to think we’d miss that limp,” Eskel said from where he was leaning in the doorway again. “What’s hurting?”</p><p>Lambert ignored the question by stuffing a spoonful of slightly too hot porridge into his mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but he forced himself to swallow and take another bite. His brother’s exchanged one of their looks, the one where they instantly knew what the other was thinking. He hated it when they did that. </p><p>They let him eat mostly in peace, thankfully. Only breaking the silence to ask him what flavor of tea he wanted. They did, however, have the audacity to eat with him instead of going literally anywhere else in the huge, gods forsaken keep. Chatting with each other over their breakfasts, while he brooded next to them in silence.</p><p>After he’d scraped his bowl clean and drank all but the dregs of his tea, made without the spirit he had wanted, Eskel turned to him. “Feel any better now that you’ve eaten?”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Lambert said. </p><p>“Well at least he’s talking now,” Geralt quipped. </p><p>“You can fuck off too.” Lambert told him with a scowl.</p><p>Eskel sighed. “Geralt, you’re not helping.”</p><p>“Yeah, Geralt, you’re not helping,” Lambert sneered.</p><p>Eskel shot him a slightly disappointed look. “Lambert, we’re just trying to help. You don’t have to be an ass.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for any help,” Lambert told him.</p><p>“We’re your brothers. You don’t have to ask,” Eskel said gently. “We worry when you come down to breakfast limping and pricklier than usual. Now come on, what’s hurting?”</p><p>For a long moment, Lambert held Eskel’s steady gaze before dropping his eyes to the table. </p><p>“This year a wyvern decided it would be good fun to pick me up by my leg and swing me around. Managed to get the damn thing to drop me by shoving my sword through its neck but it still managed to dislocate my hip and crush my knee. Didn’t have any swallow on me so I spent about four days just lying there waiting for everything to heal. Think something set wrong cause it hurts like a bitch when a storm blows in.”</p><p>“I’m sure everything Vesimir put us through yesterday isn’t helping either,” Geralt said softly, rolling his shoulders. </p><p>Lambert gave a grunt in agreement.</p><p>Eskel sent Geralt one of his soft looks before Geralt nodded in silent agreement. Lambert narrowed his eyes at them, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what they were planning.</p><p>“I have a salve that will ease the ache. Geralt likes it when I use it on his shoulders.” Eskel said gently. “Will you let us help you?”</p><p>Lambert stared back at his brother of circumstance. It would be so easy to just demand the salve and deal with it by himself. Eskel would probably give to him without a fight. But something within him longed for him to just give in. To just agree and let them take care of him. To not put up his walls completely and fight their kindness for once in his twice damned life. He could. It would be so easy to just give into that little voice, especially with both of them watching him with such soft, open expressions.</p><p>Without a word, Lambert rose and began gingerly making his way out of the kitchen.</p><p>“Lamb?” Geralt called, confusion evident in his tone.</p><p>“Well, unless one of you is hiding the salve in your pockets, I assumed we were doing this upstairs.” Lambert didn’t stop or turn around.</p><p>Eskel’s deep chuckle was accompanied by the sounds of scraping chairs. He could feel them hovering behind him as they all made their way through the castle and up to their rooms. Eskel on his right, hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach out and steady Lambert. Geralt on his left, slightly behind, a silent presence. </p><p>“My room,” Eskel said, turning left at the top of the stairs.</p><p>They followed him wordlessly into his small room, identical to their own in all but the personal items strewn about. Books, Eskel always had piles of books in his room. It was the one thing that had stood out to Lambert about Eskel since he was a youth. </p><p>“Geralt, can you handle that?” Eskel asked, with a gesture to the fire dying in the hearth.</p><p>With an affirmative nod, Geralt set to work stoking the fire to life.</p><p>“And you,” Eskel said, rounding on Lambert where he stood in the doorway. “Pants off, lie down.”</p><p>Eskel’s tone brooked no room for argument. It was the tone he had used when he was the Sign instructor during Lambert’s training days. Momentarily thrown back to a time of begrudging obedience, Lambert stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him and shucked his pants without a hint of modesty. They’d both seen him in less than his smallclothes anyway. Under Eskel’s watchful eye, he situated himself on the big bed that dominated the room.</p><p>Eskel gave him a short nod before turning his attention to a chest tucked into one corner. Lambert watched as he carefully sorted through the little vials, jars and pots that filled the chest in two levels. He pulled one pot out rather quickly, holding it in one hand as he hummed and hawed over the others. </p><p>“Do you think some spiraea tonic will help him?” Eskel asked, holding a vial filled with a cloudy white liquid up in Geralt’s direction.</p><p>Geralt looked up from where he was tending the fire and gave a small shrug. “Don’t think it will hurt.”</p><p>Careful to tuck the small vial against the palm of his large hand, Eskel shut the trunk and turned back to Lambert. As though he’d been caught looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be, Lambert’s eyes flicked down to his lap. </p><p>“Comfortable?” Eskel asked, setting the pot and vial down on the nightstand.</p><p>“As I can be, given…” Lambert trailed off, gesturing awkwardly at his leg.</p><p>“I get it,” Eskel said gently. “This will make you feel better. Promise.”</p><p>“He’s right you know,” Geralt said, from his other side as he climbed on to the bed with Lambert. “Of course he usually is.”</p><p>“And you’d do well to remember that,” Eskel countered good naturedly. </p><p>Geralt flipped him off with a laugh.</p><p>Turning his attention back on Lambert, Eskel tapped his right leg. “This one?”</p><p>Lambert nodded and Eskel ran his hand over his thigh, gently caressing from the top of his knee to the bottom of his smallclothes. With a sharp pat, Eskel pulled his hand back. </p><p>“Drink this.” Eskel handed him the small vial. “Should dull the pain somewhat.”</p><p>With a grunt, Lambert snatched the vial and struggled into a halfway sitting position. He let Geralt place a steadying hand on his back with only a sideways glance. He tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth and forced himself to swallow. It’s only slightly better than their worst tasting potion. Once he’s done coughing, Geralt gently eased him back down onto the bed.</p><p>Wordlessly, Eskel lifted the lid of the pot and the heavy smell of eucalyptus had Lambert’s nose twitching. He watched as Eskel scooped out three fingers worth of the thick, paste-like salve. </p><p>“I’m going to start just above your knee and work my way up,” Eskel warned him, fingers already hovering over him.</p><p>Lambert nodded, unable to say anything. Because if he opened his mouth, something far too soft was going to fall out. Something he would regret in a few hours. It would be simpler if he kept his mouth shut as much as possible.</p><p>“Relax,” Geralt whispers, gathering Lambert’s closest hand in his two big ones. “It doesn’t hurt at all. Feels great, actually.”</p><p>It’s then that Lambert has enough wherewithal to take stock of his own body. His shoulders were tight, he can feel the creases in his forehead and Geralt is slowly trying to work his fingers out of their closed fist. With a conscious effort, Lambert took a deep breath in and then let it rush out of him, trying his best to get his body to untense. These are his brothers in arms, there’s no danger here. They’ll stop if he tells them too. </p><p>And then, Eskel’s fingers are on him, working the salve into the juncture of his thigh and knee. Slowly, carefully kneading at the flesh, working the tension out. The salve felt cool at first but a gentle warming sensation took over as Eskel worked it into his skin. </p><p>Geralt managed to get his fingers open and was slowly massaging the palm of his hand. It felt delicious and Lambert had to bite his lip to keep from groaning.</p><p>“Feel good?” Eskel asked in a rough whisper.</p><p>Lambert nodded, a whimper slipping past his lips as Eskel’s hands found a particularly large knot at the exact same moment Geralt pressed his thumb just right into the center of his palm. </p><p>It does feel good. But what felt better than their hands is the gentle sense of safety settling over him. He can’t remember the last time he’d surrendered himself to other people like this. Maybe it had been never. A rough childhood had bled into a rough adolescence and then an even rougher adulthood. Lambert couldn’t remember a time he’d ever let himself be so mindlessly free around other people.</p><p>But these weren’t just other people. This was Eskel and Geralt. He’d known them for nearly a century now. Deep in his well armoured heart, he knew they would never hurt him. They’d had plenty of chances too and all they’d done is roll with his prickly, verbal punches instead of throwing back harder. </p><p>Geralt pulled his other hand across his chest as Eskel moved farther up his leg. They moved in concert with each other. Working together as easily as they did when they fought side by side. Leading Lambert carefully down their well trodden path to bliss. They knew the way by heart but were happy to lead him for the first time. </p><p>And for once in his life, Lambert didn’t feel the need to struggle.</p><p>He felt safe and loved. Here in this space, in this moment, with the only two people who could ever understand him, he could just let himself be. </p><p>If only for the moment.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>